AsmiI wondered as I sat
on the handle of Saheb’s porcelain cup
At the verge of sliding in
like the dead bodies from the holocaust
that would swiftly slide in the dug up earth
As if they were destined for it
Sprayed on, plucked, collected
and then finally,
boiled in hot water
until they lose their color
The leaves are trapped
in little paper bags.
They are allowed to move freely
as long as they were in their bags
Slowly they would turn the water brown,
Not like the brown that dirt forms
when mixed with water
Neither like the brown
that Saheb’s black shoes fade into
because of that muddy water
But like the brown elixir
that intoxicates us
and makes us forget.
One teaspoon of sugar
would swiftly swirl a deluge
in the porcelain cup, making it sweet.
And yet, I would sit there
Wondering whether
to either get strained
Or to get dissolved.
*
పెద్దన్న
కృష్ణుడు
శ్రీనివాస్ గౌడ్
కృపాకర్ పోతుల
తిలక్ బొమ్మరాజు
కవనమాలి
స్వాతి కుమారి
beautiful 💐